


cherry cola

by thymelord



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Lolita (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - No-Maj, Child Abuse, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Past Abuse, Road Trip, Seduction, Step-son/Step-father, Taboo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thymelord/pseuds/thymelord
Summary: Percival Graves has just got married.And his new step-son, Credence, will prove to be more of a problem than he anticipated."I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise - a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames - but still a paradise."[[no-maj AU, ‘50s. loosely based specifically on the 1997 film oflolita, but credence is older. TW for child abuse (not by graves).]]





	1. one: the starling spreads his wings

**Author's Note:**

> a note on the inspiration from lolita. i say inspired because i borrowed enough plot points from it that i feel that i need to give it credit, but percival is no humbert humbert (hence why i say that film in particular and not the book), and credence is 16 which is the age of consent where i live but not in other places, so make a note of that. 
> 
> disclaimer: i do not condone the relationship in the film of lolita. i took inspiration not because of lolita’s age, but because of the cinematography, style, setting and narrative. i shouldn't need to say this, but hey, just thought i'd make things crystal-clear.

Just when Percival Graves finally thought he was getting his life back on track, everything shattered.

During their courtship, Percival was aware of Charlotte’s son, but it was a long time before he actually got to meet the elusive sixteen-year-old. Credence Barebone was Charlotte’s adopted son, but biological nephew, snatched from the dark jaws of her sister as soon as she realised how  monstrous she was. But by then Credence had been subjected to fifteen years of abuse, and his injured soul would take a very long time to recover.

“He’s skittish of new people,” Charlotte had explained. “So we’ll have to wait a little before you meet him.”

That day did not seem particularly fateful, then.

There was no indication – none at all – of what he was. Of what he would become.

It was a mere month before his and Charlotte’s wedding. They had a simple dinner at hers, courtesy of their cook, Dolores. Credence had been quiet, but friendly, his eyes flicking up occasionally to meet Percival’s.

If only there had been the slightest hint that everything would go to hell, Percival may not have been so shaken up.

~

A month after their honeymoon and two months after their wedding, Charlotte had decided to go away with a few of the other wives of suburbia at a new-fangled spa all the way in North Carolina, leaving him in charge of Credence. They’d had to dismiss Dolores just after the wedding, having been fiscally drained by the ceremony itself and the ensuing honeymoon.

Yet somehow, Charlotte had still managed to dredge up funds from somewhere for that spa.

“Are we going to do anything tonight, Uncle?”

Percival was still trying to get used to that one tiny, five-letter word. He didn’t think he ever would, not when said by _him._ The thought of being related to Credence repelled him, not because of any lack of affection, but because of an abundance of it.

He didn’t know when everything had changed. As far as he could remember, he’d not felt even the slightest whisper of attraction to him. Perhaps it was the absence of Charlotte that made his latent feelings come to the surface.

“I-I don’t know.” Percival’s voice was shaky. “What would you like to do, my boy?”

Predictably, Credence said, “How about the soda fountain?” He was sprawled on the sofa, dark curls mussed slightly. His lips were pursed slightly as he read some terrible pulp magazine or other.

“Sure,” said Percival, and Credence looked up, giving a smile that shot a bolt of electricity through his heart.

Percival was sure that they couldn’t exactly afford to keep going out every night, and that Charlotte would flay him alive when she returned, but he could not stand to see Credence unhappy for even a second.

Credence put the magazine down, and crawled over to flick the television on.

_“We like Ike, you like Ike, everybody likes Ike…”_

“Oh for the love of God,” groaned Percival, walking into the living room with a mug of coffee in one hand. “If I hear that infernal jingle one more time, I’m voting for Eisenhower’s rival out of spite.”

Credence laughed, a high melodious chime. “You’d vote Adlai anyway. I can’t see you voting Republican.” He glanced towards the TV. “Although, I think it’s quite catchy.” He was fiddling with a woven bracelet around his wrist, from which hung a tiny medal of St. Francis of Assisi. He was still religious, but had converted from his mother’s brutal neo-Puritan church to Catholicism.

Percival drained his coffee cup. “Turn the TV off, and let’s go.”

~

Credence appeared to be trying to make up for sixteen years of only drinking milk and water, and only eating bread and vegetables.

He ordered the same thing he did every day, a cherry cola float. He sucked the glace cherry into his mouth, and Percival tried not to stare, he really did, but he was transfixed by the bright red fruit disappearing past his damask rose lips.

Credence looked at him, and his eyes immediately darted away. He sipped his Pepsi, staring unseeingly forward at the waitress behind the counter.

“We should go to a diner after,” said Credence, taking another slurp of his drink.

“Sure,” said Percival automatically. Although Credence claimed to like Percival’s home cooking, they both knew that it was atrocious.

Well, Charlotte was already going to skin him alive; what was one more expense?

Benny’s Diner was a few miles away, but it was Credence’s favourite, and it wasn’t as though gas was expensive. He had ordered his fries covered with melted cheese, which Percival thought was an utter abomination, but Credence seemed to adore it.

Percival supposed that there was no accounting for taste.

“Wanna try?” Credence held out a fry.

Percival winced. “Oh, no.”

Credence gave a wicked grin. “Go on. I dare you.”

Percival held his gaze for a moment, then capitulated. He took it, and chewed, and his eyes popped open with surprise. “This is… not as terrible as I was anticipating.”

“Told you,” smirked Credence. “My taste is impeccable.”

Was it just his imagination that Credence’s eyes lingered on his when he said that?

~

That night when Percival went to kiss Credence’s forehead good night, Credence tilted his head up at the last moment, and Percival’s lips missed Credence’s by mere inches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be multi-chapter but i don't know how many chapters yet; i have an estimated number because i fucking hate that question mark.


	2. two - my sin, my soul

The rest of their hallowed time alone passed in much the same way, and it seemed like mere seconds before Charlotte had returned. Except from that near-miss the day of Benny’s Diner, Credence hadn’t attempted anything else – if that head-tilt _was_ an attempt, and not mere happenstance. Which, now Percival thought about it, was more likely. It was insane to think that Credence may not only share Percival’s predilections for the male sex, but be attracted to someone over twice his age.

He was projecting, that was all. Projecting his deepest, darkest desires on this poor, innocent boy.

He had to stop thinking of such things at once.

He sometimes felt that Charlotte caught his lingering gaze on her son’s, but that was surely just paranoia. Things such as homosexuality – or more specifically when it came to Percival, bisexuality - did not exist in Charlotte’s sterile, white picket-fenced world, especially when it pertained to her handsome, rich, successful new husband.

“So, how was the spa, darling?” Percival said, giving her a smile that he hoped to God didn’t look as forced as it felt.

Charlotte smiled, bright lips curved in a smile. “It was wonderful, my dear.” Credence had clearly got his looks from his mother’s side; he shared his aunt’s void-black curls and dark, dark eyes that had a slight tilt to them.

Oh God, why was it that when he looked at Charlotte now, all he could think of was Credence?

The boy in question was in the living room, watching the television, and sucking a maraschino cherry-coloured lollipop, cheeks hollowed, lips pouting.

Percival could feel himself slipping deeper into the abyss with every second that passed.

“I’m glad to hear that, Charlotte,” Percival managed to say.

~

Percival sneezed for the fourth time in five minutes, which seemed to be the last straw for his secretary.

“Really, sir, I do think you should go home. You’re clearly ill, and you know you don’t have any classes left today.”

“I’m not _ill,”_ protested Percival, dabbing his streaming eyes with a handkerchief. “It is merely hayfever.”

“I don’t care what it is, there’s no point in you staying here and suffering when you know there’s nothing left to do. You’ve been here years, and you’ve taken off _no_ holidays. You can surely take an hour to rest.”

Percival sighed. “You’re right, Susie, as always.”

He popped another anti-histamine into his mouth on the way to his cherry-red Pontiac. Although not particularly interested in cars, Credence had been delighted by the Pontiac, vastly preferring it to Charlotte’s “disgusting, vomit-coloured” olive green Chevrolet.

Christ, _everything_ was reminding him of Credence.

He was absolutely fucked.

As soon as Percival let himself into the house, he heard a cry of pain, quickly muffled, emanating from the living room. His hand stilled on the door knob, and he shut it silently and padded over to the living room, opening the door a crack and peering through.

Charlotte’s hand was gripped tight around Credence’s arm, and the boy had tears running down his face.

“All because I am more lenient than your mother, does _not_ mean I will let you indulge in such _sinful_ activities. We have _had this discussion,_ Credence Repentance Barebone. We have had it more times than I can count, and yet you. _Still. Persist.”_ She shook him violently to punctuate those last three words.

“I didn’t - ”

Charlotte slapped him, cutting off his words with a vicious, backhand blow that made Percival throw the door open to hard it ricocheted off the hideous floral wallpaper, the handle leaving a dent. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Charlotte?”

Her hand dropped from Credence’s arm as though she’d been burned. “Percival, it’s not - ”

Credence flung himself forward, arms wrapping around his waist like a drowning man would grasp a lifeboat, letting out a sob. “Uncle Percival...”

“Oh, darling,” murmured Percival, stroking his head gently. “Oh, darling, it’s fine now. You’re safe.” He looked up at his wife with murder in his eyes. “How dare you? How _fucking_ dare you? After everything this poor boy has been through? Did you not think it was enough? _Did you?”_ He all but screamed those last two words, causing Charlotte to hastily step back into the fireplace (unfortunately, unlit).

She looked stricken. “It was the only thing I… I caught him reading revolting, perverse magazines, the most degenerate acts - ”

“Pray tell me what sort of _magazine_ would justify you hitting our son,” barked out Percival, and Credence’s arms tightened around him.

“Pornography.” The word was bit out as though it was the most disgusting word she had ever come across. In a lowered voice, as if that fucking mattered, she clarified, “ _Homosexual_ pornography.”

“Fucking fascinating. I don’t care if he was reading about twelve men in a giant fucking orgy, that is _no excuse_ to hurt a boy who has been abused his entire fucking life, is it, _Lottie?”_

 

and gently extricated Credence from his arms. “Come, my boy. We’re going to Rosie’s Diner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are shorter than i usually write but they just seem to fit here idk?? what do you guys think, do you think they're too short? 
> 
> thanks for reading xx


	3. come on baby, let's drive

“I want to go to a motel tonight, please,” said Credence, so softly that Percival almost didn’t catch it.

They were in Percival’s Pontiac, and it was about ten minutes since he’d stormed out of the house with Credence in tow, slamming the front door so hard he swore he heard something crack.

“I can’t… I can’t go back tonight,” continued Credence, voice frantic, “Uncle, I can’t - ”

“Percival,” he said automatically. “Call me Percival. I don’t want my relationship with you to be defined by my relationship to _her.”_

Credence blinked, and stared at him wide-eyed. His throat bobbed infinitesimally. “Y-Yes. As you wish.” He looked down.

“If we do go to a motel tonight, we’ll have to share a room, I’m afraid.”

Credence nodded quickly. “Oh, that’s perfect. I mean - ” He coloured. “I mean, I hate being alone. Especially tonight.”

“That’s fine, Credence,” smiled Percival. “That’s absolutely fine.”

Of course, he was driving to Benny’s Diner, not Rosie’s. Percival had no idea why he’d bothered to lie to Charlotte; she had sold her hideous Chevrolet to pay for the wedding, and there was no way she’d be able to follow them on foot – she complained when she had to walk half a mile, let alone six miles.

But he supposed that old habits die hard.

~

“We’ll each have the double cheeseburger with cheese fries, please, with one 7-Up and one cherry cola float.”

Credence beamed at him as the waitress glided away. “You really liked those fries, didn’t you?”

Percival smiled. “You have converted me, my darling.”

They both froze at the pet name, one Percival had hitherto only referred to Charlotte by, but Percival managed to recover admirably, taking a casual sip of his soda. Credence picked up his long-handled spoon, skimming a little of the vanilla ice-cream from his soda float and staring at it as though it was an alien life form before sucking it from the spoon.

“Unc- Percival,” said Credence.

“Yes, my boy?”

“What are we going to do… after tonight?”

“I suppose we’ll have to go to Charlotte.” At Credence’s look of terror, he had to tamp down a surge of fury. “How long has she been hurting you?”

“Ever since she adopted me. She – she’s convinced I have – h-homosexual tendencies. Tendencies that she tried to cure by… any means possible.”

Nausea roiled in Percival’s stomach, watching Credence’s eyes dart from side to side. “What do you mean, darling? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t - ”

“No,” said Credence quietly. “You deserve to know.” He took a breath. “She forced me to… well. She believed that if I slept with a woman, I would forget my… supposed homosexuality. Thought that even sleeping with a woman of my o-own blood was better than a… a man.”

“ _Jesus,”_ Percival exploded, so loudly that the surrounding diners turned around and glared at him, scandalised. “ _Fuck._ ” He slammed his glass down on the table, soda slopping over the side. He watched Credence angrily wipe tears from his eyes, and all he wanted to do was go back to the house and punch Charlotte full in the face.

But he wouldn’t. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t.  But he wouldn’t let Credence go back there, not ever, and told him so. “Never. Never ever, sweetheart, you’ll never have to go back there.”

Lips parted, Credence glanced up in panic. “No, no, don’t send me to the authorities, don’t - ”

“No,” soothed Percival, “no, you’ll be with me. That is,” he added uncertainly, “if you want.”

“Of _course_ I want. But you’d give up her for _me?_ I mean, she’s your wife, you’ve known her for months and months, and you love her and you’ve only known me a couple of months and - ”

“Credence.” Percival leaned forward slightly, aching to take his hands in his but not daring to, not here. “I love you more than I could ever could love her. I despise her, now I know what she’s done to you.”

“You… you care for me? That much?” Credence choked on a sob. “No one’s ever…”

And damned be those that were watching; Percival stood up and embraced him. “It’s okay, Credence,” he whispered as he felt Credence tremble and weep in his arms. “It’s okay. You’re my son. I will never leave you with her – I will never leave you at all.”

He’d only said _you’re my son_ for the benefit of those listening.

And he had the strange feeling that Credence knew that as well, as impossible as that was.


	4. magic fingers

Sunshine Motel was probably one of the worst names Percival had ever seen, but the place was sufficiently far from their house to make both of them feel safe, and it seemed clean and reputable enough. They couldn’t stay there for long, of course, but it would suffice for tonight. Charlotte would probably restrict his access to their joint back account once she realised they weren’t coming back, but that account was small fry compared to his own, secret account.

This wasn’t the sort of emergency he’d squirreled away the money for, but it was still an emergency, and there was definitely enough money to continue staying at cheap motels and eating at cheap diners for a long time, and Percival knew he wouldn’t have trouble finding work, with his qualifications. Perhaps he’d apply to Beardsley College as an English professor; he’d had his eye on that vacancy for a while, but knew Charlotte wouldn’t consent to move to even the next street, let alone to another state.

To his knowledge, nobody else knew about the account, not even his former employers.

As Charlotte’s husband, he was technically a legal guardian of Credence, but as the legal mother, Charlotte would take precedence and would probably have a solid case to take to the police, although he was reasonably sure they would have at least a week’s headstart.

Of course, the prudent thing to do would be to kill her, and then Percival would be Credence’s only legal guardian.

Shit, but he really didn’t want to think about this right now.

“Hello,” said Percival, smiling at the receptionist. “I’m looking for a room with two single beds, please.”

The woman behind the counter reminded him a lot of his secretary Susie, in countenance if not in looks. “I’m afraid we don’t have any spare, sir, but we do have a room with one double bed.”

Percival hesitated only momentarily, then nodded. “Yes, thank you, that will be fine.”

She indicated the book before him on the desk. “Sign the guest book, please.”

Percival’s hand trembled slightly, then wrote down, _Ernest Miller & Francis Miller. Darlington, Wisconsin. 06/17/52. _He handed over seven dollars in exchange for the key. “Have a good night, miss.”

As they went up to their room, Percival said, “Are you sure you’re alright with sharing a bed? Because I’m sure I could fit on the sofa, or - ”

“No, said Credence, “take the bed with me. Please. I need – I need you close.” He was shaking almost imperceptibly. “I get nightmares, a lot, and it’s good to have someone with me. To remind me I’m not w-with Mother.”

“Or Charlotte?” Percival asked gently. He refused to use the word _aunt._ As far as both of them were concerned, that woman was no family of Credence’s, or of Percival’s, for that matter.

“Well, yes,” said Credence, “but Ma – I mean, Mary Lou – was infinitely worse. My night terrors are almost always about her.”

 _Jesus. What the hell did_ she _do to him, to be so much worse than Charlotte?_

Percival wasn’t sure he wanted to know, and he certainly wouldn’t ask him if Credence didn’t volunteer the information.

Credence looked towards the bed, and lit up. “Hey, look! Magic Fingers! Do you have a quarter?”

Percival blinked uncomprehendingly. “What?”

“A quarter!” said Credence, mildly exasperated. Percival had to admit it was refreshing to see Credence display negative emotions; usually, he was too terrified to be anything to be submissively pleasant.

“What are Magic Fingers?” asked Percival, his mind firmly in the gutter and trying not to let it show.

“It’s a massage machine, attached to the bed. Honestly, Percy, don’t you ever watch television?”

“Not since Eisenhower’s awful advert was on every five seconds,” snorted Percival. The diminutive had not escaped him, and he had to fight hard not to react. He rummaged in his jacket pocket, and extracted an ancient quarter that looked like it was from the ‘30s. “Here.”

Credence beamed, taking it. “Thank you!” He put the coin in the little box above the bed and pressed a button, which immediately caused the box and bed to make the most horrific clattering noise. The bed started to vibrate, and Credence hopped onto it, closing his eyes blissfully. “oh, Percival, this is _wonderful!_ Come and lie down with me.” His voice was shaky, caused by the Magic Fingers. Percival took a breath, and laid next to him. He was going to have to get used to being in such close proximity with him if he wanted comfort during his nightmares.

The machine was relatively pleasant, he supposed, but it wasn’t a patch on the fancy masseurs he used to hire back in the old days, back when he had those sorts of luxuries.

Those masseurs had also provided extra services that he doubted the Magic Fingers had the capacity for, despite their name.

“This is pretty good, Cree.”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, flinching. “That’s what Ma and Charlotte call me.”

“Okay, my darling Credence. I won’t call you it again.”

He smiled, as though he had been afraid Percival would deny his wishes, as though Percival would not give him everything he wanted. “Thank you, Percy.”

The corners of Percival’s lips twitched upwards. “That’s the second time you’ve called me that. I like it. A lot.”

Credence looked radiant. “I’m glad. The first time it just slipped out, but… I thought it felt right.” He looked uncertain for only a moment, before his smile was firmly back in place. “Are you sure you like it? You’re not just being polite, or - ”

Percival laid his hand softly on Credence’s upper arm. “Darling, yes. I _adore_ it.”

A pale rosy blush bloomed over Credence’s cheeks. “I’m glad.”

Percival stretched out on the bed, feeling the surprisingly pleasurable vibrations of the message machine beneath him. “So, you don’t like… that name I called you.” Credence looked surprised, then delighted to find that Percival didn’t even want to speak the word Cree again after knowing how much he hated it. “So, what nickname should I have for you?”

His eyes sparkled. “Well, I _do_ quite like darling.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm surprised at myself for doing a reasonably slow burn; usually by 3k+ i've finished the smut already lmaooo. but i'm finding this a really fun experiment!


	5. i was just an only child of the universe (and then i found you)

Percival was putting off going to bed, because he knew that it would be absolute, utter torture. But sooner or later, he was going to have to get his ass out of this seedy bar and rejoin Credence in their motel room.

Percival really didn’t know how he was going to survive this.

And as soon as he opened the door to their room, he _knew_ that he wasn’t. He would perish, right here and right now.

“I hope you don’t mind,” said Credence quietly, blushing fiercely, “but I can’t sleep at all with clothes on. Although I think I can manage underwear, because otherwise that would be far too uncomfortable for you, I’m sure.”

Percival swallowed. “How considerate,” he said dryly.

Credence smiled. He was sitting up, covers bunched around his waist, bare chest visible. Old scars stood out, ridged white and fading pinkish-red, and all Percival wanted to do was kiss each and every one of them; to hold him in his arms and whisper that he was safe, safe, _safe,_ and Percival would never let anybody hurt him ever again.

Instead, he pulled out his pyjamas, and headed to the en suite bathroom to put them on.

“Do we really need this modesty when I’m lying here naked?” asked Credence, and even though Percival was facing away from him, he knew the little brat was smiling.

“Fine,” said Percival noncommittally. “If you want to see so badly, I’ll change here.”

Credence spluttered wordlessly, and Percival began to undress. He didn’t dare to glance at Credence to see if he was watching, and ignored him when he said, “I should have known you’d have silk pyjamas.”

Percival slid under the covers. Was it just his imagination, or was this double bed smaller than usual?

Credence touched his arm lightly. “C-can you leave the light on, please?”

“Of course,” said Percival. He could never sleep with the light on, but would have suffered a thousand sleepless nights if he could give Credence only one restful slumber.

Percival was laid on his side, facing away from Credence. He felt a hand on his arm again, more insistent than before, and he jolted as though he had been electrocuted. Credence pulled until Percival was rolling onto his back, staring at him in shock. “Credence, what - ”

“It’s off-putting,” said Credence quietly. “When you’re facing away from me.” They stared at each other for a moment, then he bent forward to kiss his cheek, lips lingering.

Percival drew a shaky breath. “Credence -”

“Kiss me,” said Credence quickly, as though he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve. Percival swallowed, and kissed his forehead.

“Good night, Cr-”

“ _No,_ not a good night kiss. Like _this.”_

And then Credence’s lips were on his, and every single thought immediately flew out of his head. He still tasted faintly like the cherry cola he was endlessly drinking, and Percival found himself reaching for him and pulling him closer before he regained his faculties and broke away with a gasp.

“I can’t, I – it would be taking advantage, I - ”

Credence quirked an eyebrow. “Why?” Dimly lit by the lamp fixed to the wall, with his dark waves falling into his face and his lips shiny with being freshly kissed, Credence had never looked so beautiful.

“I’m your guardian, you’re in my care, and even if you weren’t, you’re too young -”

“I don’t care. I know what I want,” murmured Credence. “I may be physically innocent, but not spiritually. I know what this entails. And I know I _want it._ ” He undid the top button of Percival’s pyjama shirt so he could bare his shoulder and press his lips to it, feeling Percival shiver.

“Alright,” whispered Percival, slowly unbuttoning the remainder of his shirt and letting it fall to the ground. After all, if Credence was that desperate for it, it would be almost cruel if he didn’t give it to him.

Percival slipped Credence’s boxers past his hips, throwing them safely out of the way before bending down, lips inches from the head of Credence’s cock. “Yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” groaned Credence, hips canting forward slightly. “ _Please,_ Percy.”

As soon as his lips closed around his shaft, Credence let out a high-pitched whine. “Fuck,” he whimpered as Percival’s lips moved up and down, tongue toying with Credence’s foreskin. Percival couldn’t help but glance up at him, watching with satisfaction as Credence’s eyelids fluttered, mouth parted in an expression of rapture. His hand went to his own cock, pumping up and down desperately.

Suddenly, Credence’s hips snapped forward, thrusting deep into Percival’s throat, and his eyes went wide with surprise.

“You like that?” said Credence, voice husky and deep and so very un-Credence. “Do you like it when I fuck your throat?”

Percival never knew erotic pulp magazines could be so educational.

In response, he took Credence to the hilt, far enough that his tongue could trace around his balls. It had been a while since he’d done this, but it seemed his carefully trained gag reflex had the good manners not to reappear. Credence had his fist in his mouth, muffled moans escaping him, and Percival wished they could go somewhere without fear of discovery, so he could make his boy _scream._

“Percival – Percy – _oh - ”_

That was the only warning Percival got before his mouth filled with Credence’s creamy white release, and Credence’s shuddering groans were enough to make him pull hard on his cock and release into the cheap, rough motel sheets as he swallowed every drop from Credence’s head.

Credence was limp, spent, his eyes closed. He opened them lazily as Percival lay down heavily next to him, brushing his hand over Credence’s cheek.

Each knew that things were irrevocably, massively changed, as though the Earth had shifted slightly on its axis.

“We’ll go to England,” murmured Percival. “I know someone there who can help us get false documents, false names. A new life.”

A soft smile lit up Credence’s face. “I’d like nothing more, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this works as an end, and it probably will be the end, but i might - MIGHT - write some more? i haven't decided yet. anyway, i hope y'all enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr!](https://thymelord.tumblr.com/)
> 
> i also made a lil [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/archbunburyist/playlist/1lTBNLPaaOdmkmbJcgj9q6?si=f98RmfnZRL-9Sptnbtjzzg) for this fic if ya wanna check it out


End file.
